Phoenix Dreams
by shield-maiden
Summary: When Jean's powers overwhelm her one night it is Scott who comes to her aid. Jott, of course.
1. Phoenix Dreams

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this fic; they are property of Marvel comics. If I owned them I wouldn't be the poor college student working for minimum wage that I am.

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Darkness. That was the first thing Jean Grey noticed, a looming darkness and eyes that pierced it. She felt, more than saw, the evil that seeped out towards her, grasping at her ankles. The darkness followed suit, expanding and flowing out from the dark blob that once had seemed so far away but was quickly gaining ground. She couldn't move; fear rooted her to the spot. It crawled up from her ankles and wound itself around her arms inching towards her face. Still Jean was unable to move. Soon she would be completely consumed by it.

And then heat. Burning from her very core broke through her skin. Fire. It consumed her as it forced back her dark assailant. She was no longer Jean Grey; she was something more and at the same time she was something less. Her physical body no longer existed: she was the flame.

Scott Summers awoke to the sound of crashing furniture coming from down the hall. Something didn't feel right. Throwing off the covers he got out of bed and hurried down the hall. The crashing was coming from Jean's room, he was sure. He stopped outside her door, for a moment unsure if he should enter, and then all was quiet.

Inside, Jean's eyes snapped open and she fell down to her bed. Blearily her eyes looked about her. Darkness, but a small night light in the corner was a beacon of hope. It had been a dream. The destruction around her, however, was not. Knick-knacks from shelves had been violently thrown across the room, smashing on the floor. Jean looked over the side of her bed and saw the remains of a porcelain angel, an heirloom passed down to her from her grandmother.

She didn't notice the sound of the door opening or the feet padding across the carpet as she reached down to pick up the white and gold shards, the music box mechanism forgotten on the floor. She watched in fascination as a sharp edge cut her index finger, allowing scarlet blood to well up, drip down her finger and pool amidst the pieces in her palm. Faint whispers called to her, daring her mind to follow.

A slight pressure on the edge of her bed brought her attention to the here and now just as a familiar hand reached out for hers. "Jean...are you okay?"

She forced herself to look at him, watching her image reflected in his red shades. Unbidden tears came to her eyes as she shook her head. "Alright," his tone was gentle, caring. That's what she loved about him, his understanding nature. A sea of voices threatened to overwhelm her, thoughts and dreams not her own but those of teammates, enemies and strangers. Unbidden they flooded into her consciousness.

She let the porcelain fragments fall from her hand and wrapped her arms around him, clutching him close to her. "Bring me home, Scott," she whispered with a hitch in her voice, "I don't know where I am..." He could feel the cool drip of tears dampening his shirt and watched as the broken shards around the room began to float and dance in complicated patterns, thankfully above their heads.

Scott, despite his desire to hold his girlfriend close, pulled her just far enough away to look into her eyes. He cupped her head in his hands. "Listen to me, Jean. I love you. Now you need to concentrate. We've gotten through this before. We can do it again. Focus on me. Focus on my voice. Think of all we've been through. We're not going to let a little thing like this get in the way, are we?"

He watched painfully as she shook her head, tears streaming down her face, the pain and confusion distorting her beautiful features. "I...I don't know if I can, Scott. You're too far away. I'm lost. There's too many..."

He felt his own tears run down his cheeks. "There's not too many, now concentrate."

Jean could feel his determination seep through their bond. As voices pummeled her from all sides she latched on to the thin cord that connected them and slowly began to pull herself back. Every voice threatened to snatch her away. They enticed her to fly with them, away from the burdens of the flesh. Here, in the mind was where everything worthwhile was kept. A body was a distraction, a cage to hold her mind prisoner.

_No_, she argued. _It's not. Everything I love is there._

_Everything you love?_ A small voice within her asked.

Her grip on the bond slackened. "No! Jean, I know you can hear me. Don't leave me now." Scott's voice was a beacon and she pushed the little voice aside, focusing on her physical body. She could feel its tug as she sorted out her thoughts from the millions of others. Jean slipped back into her own house of thoughts like she slipped on a pair of old tennis shoes. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she collapsed into Scott's arms and the glass and porcelain shards crashed to the floor.

"Good to have you back"

"I almost didn't make it this time." The tears once again began to flow from her eyes.

"Don't cry, Jean. I'm here. I'll always be here."

He lifted her off the bed and maneuvering around the broken glass on the floor, carried her down the hall to the bathroom. Gently, he helped her take a seat on the toilet as he rummaged in the cupboard to get peroxide and bandages. "How long," he asked.

"What?"

"How long have your powers been taking you for a joyride?"

Jean nervously looked down at her hands, noticing the blood that streaked across her skin. "They're not taking me for a joyride," she whispered, "I've been handling it."

"Handling it?" Scott dabbed a cotton ball on her cut, blowing on it as the peroxide bubbled up. He then peeled a Band-Aid out of its wrapper and wrapped it around her finger. "You may think no one notices, Jean, but I do. I'm very much aware that every time you have a bad dream the furniture in your room shakes. You replaced the picture frame for our Prom photo three times in the last month. I know you aren't that clumsy."

"This is the first time it got away from me," she confided. "All those other times were nothing like this. This time I was scared. If you hadn't shown up I probably wouldn't have come back."

"Have you told the Professor?"

She shook her head. " I know," she cut him off. " I should have but," her voice faded off for a moment before regaining its strength, " I'm not sure that he can help me. I felt this way when I was 10, and he helped me. Sealed my powers away. I don't think he can do it again. No. That's not right. The truth is I don't want him to. It's like...opening up a window and letting in fresh air."

"Is it worth it?" Scott forced himself to keep a clear view of what was going on. "The destruction? The pain? I don't want to lose you."

"If I don't master this myself, Scott, you'll lose me anyways. The Professor won't always be here to pick up the pieces. Some day I'd have to deal with this myself. Trust that I know what I'm doing."

"Alright." He gave her a quick embrace, "I trust you." He helped Jean to her feet and realizing she was physically exhausted from her mental battle lead her to his room instead of her own. "It'll only be a moment," he assured her, "I'm going to go clean up all that glass." She nodded.

When Scott returned 10 minutes later Jean was asleep on his bed. He pulled the covers up around her, kissed her forehead and grabbed an extra blanket before settling down in his desk chair to sleep. He neither wanted to wake her nor leave her by herself so he mentally prepared himself for the cricked back he would have the next morning and smiled to himself. _Its worth it_, he thought, _just to see her so peaceful_.


	2. Phoenix Rising

Note: You are not obligated to read this chapter or the next. Each of the chapters is a stand-alone fic strung together by a common dream. They're for my fanfic100 community prompts Beginnings, Middles, Ends. This one takes place a couple years after the end of the series.

Disclaimer: Own nothing, don't sue.

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The X-Men filed out of the Blackbird, tired but victorious. Riots from the Friends of Humanity had kept them on their toes the better part of two weeks; the revival of the Sentinel Project hadn't helped either, bringing added danger to the streets. The stress continued to build as Ororo and Hank pulled double duty, making trips almost constantly to fight one mutant registration act or another. The Professor's oldest students, Scott Summers and Jean Grey were the last down the rap, fingers intertwined with one another. "So, we're in agreement that the bridesmaids' dresses are going to be lavender," the redhead questioned. 

Her fiancé sighed, "After today, Jean, I couldn't care if they were striped pink and orange, I'm beat." He turned her to face him, giving her a light kiss on the lip. "Whatever makes you happy is fine with me."

"I just want to make sure you like it," she smiled.

"As long as you say 'I do' the rest is unimportant," he responded.

"Oh, you," Jean playfully smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. They continued onward, catching the elevator up to the main floor, quietly enjoying each other's presence until Scott broke the silence. "How much control do you actually have, Jean? Everything worked out in the field today but you seemed," he paused, "reckless."

"I thought we had a rule about asking questions like that."

"I'm not asking you as your boyfriend, I'm asking you as team leader."

The elevator opened onto the main floor and they exited, heading for the stairs. Jean kept pace, considering how to answer. Her powers had been expanding in leaps and bounds, so much so that at times she wasn't sure where the control was coming from. The dream that she had had years ago reoccurred all the time...and it was getting worse. "I've got it under control, Scott," she responded.

"Do you? You realize that if it weren't for Kurt's ability to teleport we'd be a team member short. You know we all have to watch out for each other."

Jean bit her lip. She knew when she had telekinetically thrown the Sentinel into the building wall that Kurt had been on the robot's back, trying to pull the wiring. "I know," she replied. "I don't know what I was thinking." She hadn't been thinking, her actions had been purely instinctual, and it scared her, just as her fiery nightmares scared her to the core.

"If it happens again I'm going to suspend you from the team, we can't afford to lose anyone." It hurt to say it but Scott had to put the good of the team ahead of personal feelings.

Jean nodded. "Now, if you're done being our fearless leader can we talk about something else?"

"If you like," he told her.

"Alright, because I was wondering if you thought the Professor would begrudge us a short honeymoon if things keep up the way they do."

Scott smiled, Jean's mind seemed to be stuck on one channel recently. "I don't think he'd mind..."Scott stopped short, receiving a telepathic message. "Speaking of the Professor, he wants me to see him in his office. If I don't get back before you fall asleep, sweet dreams."

"You too," Jean said. A short kiss and Scott turned around, towards the Professor's office rather than the dormitories.

By the time Scott left the office he knew the others had probably long since gone to catch a little shut-eye. That was one thing they had all come to learn; it didn't have to be nighttime for it to be time to sleep. Most of them had mastered the art of sleeping as they sat in passenger seats in the Blackbird. Scott's pajamas had taken up permanent residence in the bathroom, just as their uniforms now called coat hooks in the hallway 'home'. Scott smirked when he remembered they used to run down to the sub-basement for their uniforms, that wasn't the case anymore. His uniform was the last to get put in place, making a complete set.

He walked into his bedroom and startled when he saw Jean sitting at the foot of his bed, eyes trained on the floor. They often snuck into each other's rooms (not because the Professor had rules against it but because they worried about setting an example for the younger Mansion residents). "Jean, why aren't you asleep in your room?"

"I tried, Scott," she raised her head up, tear stains on her cheeks.

"Nightmares," he asked. She nodded. She didn't have to say the dream was the same as always...darkness and fire, Scott already knew, she'd shared the dream with him many times before. "I know I've said it before, but I really think you should get help from the Professor," Scott whispered.

"You know I won't...just let me sleep in here with you...they're never as bad when you're here."

Scott sighed. _Stubborn to a fault_, he thought.

"I heard that," she responded, she heard so much now, like every mind had decided to make itself entirely accessible to her.

"You're going to hear me snoring in a minute," he teased, climbing into bed. Jean pulled her legs up onto the bed and crawled over next to him, closing her eyes as he put a comforting arm around her.

Jean stood in a blank landscape, _same as always_, she thought to herself. The dream always started the same way, a barren landscape, which was really just a place for her to be before the darkness came for her. The Professor had told her once that dreams were just the subconscious and that with practice a person could learn to control their dreams. Jean had tried that bit of advice out and it never made any difference. It was strange how the dream never altered, almost like a vision. Jean tried to feel for her psychic link to Scott, trying to pull herself out before the darkness hit, she'd been through this once already today and wasn't looking forward to a repeat performance...nor did she want to wreak havoc upon Scott's belongings as her telekinesis got away from her as it often did.

She could hear it, a dull laugh and sensed something approaching. She tried frantically to find that link, but couldn't. And then she saw it, the dark shape that spread and grasped. Fear no longer rooted her to the spot as it once did; she ran. She ran through the barren land that was the only physical thing in the dream. But the darkness caught up with her, just as it always did. It reached for her, surged underneath her feet before taking hold of her, keeping her from escape. 'Leave me alone!'

'Why,' a dark voice asked, 'why should we leave you alone?'

Jean didn't have an answer, she never did. She could feel the heat rising up through her core, readying itself to consume her just before the darkness did the same. 'You belong to the Phoenix' a feminine voice told her... 'No one can touch you.' _The Phoenix_? Jean thought, just as the darkness began to swallow her and the flame chased it away. As part of the flame she rose into the air, free. Jean tried to argue that she couldn't fly away, that there was things she still had to do. 'Then do them,' the woman's voice told her, 'you'll return to the flame soon enough'.

Jean's eyes snapped open; she could still feel the flame under her skin, could almost see it playing underneath the surface. She turned her head to see Scott still peacefully asleep. He worked so hard...and worried so much. Jean slowly got out of the bed, making sure to pull the covers back over the bed. She walked over to the window where the sun peaked through a crack in the blinds. The Phoenix...what did it mean? The woman's voice was a new development but Jean hoped that it meant the dreams would stop, if she somehow belonged to this Phoenix she hoped the darkness knew it. She needed a good night's rest, it wore on Jean more than she let on but she didn't want anyone to worry. Jean turned to look at the damage she undoubtedly did but found none. All of Scott's papers and belongings looked undisturbed and the burning feeling was beginning to subside. Jean let out a sigh of relief...maybe it would be okay after all.


End file.
